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Humility, derived from the Latin humus, meaning “soil, earth.” I've been thinking a lot about humility lately, particularly now that I have begun a daily writing discipline this year, in hopes of writing a book.

It’s been a while since I last posted, so it seems that a bit of a farm update is in order. Our young hens are now laying up to six eggs a day, which is pretty impressive given how little light the days bring, and how cold it has been this January. Our roosters, Cecil and Mr. Jimmy both know how to crow now, after some weeks of strange, garbled sounds as they practiced and perfected their crows.

It's interesting timing that I was helping to clean out a friend's barn yesterday as the news broke about the tragedy in Connecticut. It was a sanctuary to me, keeping me grounded in friendship and hard work. I had no idea how sheltered I was at the time, bathed in goodness, even as I shoveled a path through a deep bedding of goat's poop and pee mixed with sawdust.

As he was getting ready for bed last Thursday night, Ian decided that he wanted to put his three baby teeth under his pillow for a visit from the Tooth Fairy. Now this came as a bit of a surprise to Will and me, catching us without three $1 or $5 bills handy to pay the Tooth Fairy’s tab. Out of the nine baby teeth Ian has shed, only one thus far had been put up for sale. And to top it all off, this decision of Ian’s arrived ten days after his teeth were pulled at the dentist’s office. In other words, we were blindsided.

As Superstorm Sandy made landfall in the Northeast last week, a wood stove was being installed at our home in the Pacific Northwest. The timing of the wind, rain, floods, and power outages on the opposite coast helped to reinforce my resolve to become more energy independent and carbon neutral in heating our home, which was helpful as I took a deep breath and wrote a big check out of my little family’s savings.

Last weekend at the Saturday Market there was a new vendor I felt compelled to meet. Something about her was positively bright and full of color, even as she huddled under mounds of blankets to stay warm. I planned only on introducing myself, and chatting with her, but as we talked about her craft of reading tarot cards, Ian began whispering insistently in my ear, then saying aloud, “Why don’t you have her read cards for you, Mama?”

It’s been a one-step forward, two-steps back, kind of week here on the farm. The electric poultry fence gave us fits for most of the week. Actually, it gave me fits; everyone else handled the shorts, shocks, and the process of working out the bugs just fine. So far, Will’s been shocked by the fence, our neighbor has been shocked by it, our dog Sirius has been shocked by it twice, and I’ve been shocked four times, though it was only the last one that was strong enough to make me yell out loud. But the fence works at last. Good, time to move on.

So the daily drive into town to take Ian to the Village School has resulted in our starting a friendship with a delightful family. All four of them, plus a friend visiting from California, came over yesterday to help us with our “chicken rodeo,” which entailed moving all 15 of our two-month old chickens from where they have been living, close to the house, to a nearby pasture where they will be able to free range now that they are large enough to stay in the fence and are less likely to be carried away by hawks.

This morning, there was frost on the fields where we plan to move the chickens this week, and fog filled the valley for the first time in some months. And acorns are raining down from our White Oak trees as Fall begins to set in here at the farm.

The acorns are really something this year, much like the apples. It was a bumper crop year for both. Now it might sound strange, but I am pretty darn excited about these acorns that pave the driveway, the backyard, and the woodlot next to the house.